


And the Snow Didn't Feel Cold

by KrisserCI5



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-07
Updated: 2009-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisserCI5/pseuds/KrisserCI5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie has to rescue Doyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Snow Didn't Feel Cold

And the Snow Didn't Feel Cold

by krisser

 

"Soddin' hell, has he gone off his nut?"

Doyle didn't have to ask who his partner was talking about, he knew, Bloody Cowley. "Maybe he's having us on?" Bodie's snort was hard to miss. Doyle held up his hands in surrender to Bodie's second snort.

Bodie tossed the offending memo back to Doyle.

"We're all expected to donate five toys to Jax's wife's charity. Cowley commanded. Nothing used. Shiny and new." Doyle finished recapping the offending document. "Guess the Oxfam's out." 

"It's Jax's fault. No one can say no to his wife," Bodie stated forlornly as he sank lower in his seat.

"Especially Jax," Doyle chuckled.

"Obviously the Cow is not immune either."

"Come on, Bodie, it's won't be so bad," an entreating quality to his voice.

Bodie sighed with resentment, "Okay, let's go then. Not Harrods."

"As if." Doyle looked askance at his partner.

Bodie's chuckle said he'd known that the whole time.

\-----------------

"A pint before heading home?" Bodie inquired as they exited the lift.

"Sounds good. The usual?" Doyle pocketed his keys, leaving the driving to Bodie.

"Sure, maybe Anson is up for losing some money at darts." Bodie slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "So what's up with all the toy cars." He negotiated into traffic with ease.

"Loved them as a kid. Figured that some kids would love them just as much." Doyle shrugged.

"They weren't pricey either." Bodie pulled into the carpark and turned the engine off.

""S why I bought double the amount." Somewhat stung at another jib pegging him as miserly, he added, "It wasn't the price. I truly loved them as a kid. They came in actual little matchboxes. I would imagine myself behind the wheel of each one I had. They're good memories of a carefree time."

Bodie nodded, "Got it. Which was your favourite?" Curious despite himself, he imagined a curly-haired moppet with soft green eyes in times before life lessons were learned. 

Doyle got a far off look in memory. "Midget, Vauxhall and a Zodiac. Made dirt tracks, we did, and race the day away." Doyle smiled, hand mimicking moving a car about before sadness changed his face. "That was all before my brother died."

Bodie nodded, the peek into Doyle's life accepted quietly. They entered the pub together and Bodie bought the first round. The quick stop in became an evening affair. They beat Anson and McCabe soundly at darts and the rest of the rounds were on them.

Bodie dropped Doyle off at his flat with a promise of an early morning pickup.

\-------------

 

Twenty-four hour eyes on obbo was dead cert boring in Bodie's book. Their shift was horrid as well, midday to midnight. Time off was only good for sleeping. What a waste.

Their assignment was an empty flat that Cowley was convinced was the assignation spot for a rogue minister. Bodie bet that even the Cow didn't know if it was mere infidelity or downright treason. The boss had an itch and Bodie knew they were there until something happened.

This shift, Doyle had the supply run. They traded so both of them were seen and seemed part of the neighbourhood. Bodie looked forward to the chicken takeaway Doyle would eventually return with.

Doyle.

Doyle had been occupying an inordinate amount of Bodie's thoughts of late, ever since the toy donation when Doyle had told him a very private memory. The more Bodie thought on it, the more he'd come to realise its importance.

Doyle rarely shared any detail of his past. Not with birds or workmates. Nothing more with Cowley than what he already knew and seldom even with him, his own partner. 

Bodie remembered the snippet that had accidentally escaped Doyle's lips on assignment in Green's town, but he hadn't been able to pin him down much as it had been more in the way of a boast. This toy bit was a real look into Doyle's past.

Doyle playing with a Matchbox car, imaging himself a driver, followed by the disclosure that he had a brother and that he had died young. Once again, Bodie felt that odd feeling in his gut – somehow that personal revelation was important and Bodie knew he needed to reciprocate. He just wasn't sure why and that bothered him. Bothered him so much that it was on his mind anytime the job wasn't.

Bodie was spared further delving into the emotional unknown with Doyle's return.

\----------------------

"It's bloody cold out there. I hate having to go back out after getting warm again just to collect the daily."

Bodie just stopped himself offering to do it for him and said instead, "Cowley commands."

"Cowley's not sitting in some flat with no heat. Couldn't he ‘ave sprung for that at least?"

"You're a hearty man, laddie," Bodie mimicked in his best Cowley accent. "Cold'll keep ye alert."

"Sure hope were not here through Christmas." Doyle wrapped the scarf about his neck before putting on his gloves.

"Got a bird in the wings?" Bodie found he wasn't keen on that option.

"Nah, who's had the time? But I promised me mum I'd stop by." Doyle opened the door as he called back to his partner, "Make sure you put the kettle on."

Bodie nodded as the door closed. Stunned into automation, he fixed the tea as he wrapped his thoughts around the additional revelation. His mum was still alive and expecting her son for Christmas dinner.

Bodie knew that some years Doyle went off at Christmas, but those were usually the years when they were on split obbos. They worked or were on standby most holidays together.

Bodie didn't examine too closely why he much preferred Doyle visiting his mum over Doyle having a ready and waiting bird.

That was the second personal revelation in as many weeks. He just knew it was important but the reason eluded him.

He watched the flat across the way, no activity, it was absolutely still. Nothing to help him redirect his thoughts, so they centred on Doyle once more. 

He'd felt so good after he picked up Doyle at the phone kiosk during that Van Neikerk business. He hadn't really examined why he'd felt so happy. Initially, he'd put it down to relief that his partner was still alive. Now he'd come to believe that it was something more as well.

Doyle returned with the paper, grumbling about the cold and Cowley. After a bit they switched and Bodie sat back relaxed at the kitchen table watching him. Doyle's voice filled the air, his complaining ways just part of his charm.

His charm?

Years of practice kept the surprise he felt off his face.

Charm?

Charm, yeah, in a way it was. Usually meant that all was well with Doyle. Bodie realised that when all was normal in Doyle's world, then it was normal in his own.

It was like that for partners.

"Snow globes." Bodie said aloud to the room.

"What about 'em?" Doyle's gaze never left the stake-out flat.

"Good childhood Christmas memory."

Doyle did turn away then to look at his partner.

Now that he'd started, Bodie knew he had to finish it. "Me mum would give me one each year. I'd ask her the same question each time – is the snow cold inside? She always answered the same – the snow is never cold when you love. We'd shake 'em and watch the snow float around together."

Doyle's smile was indulgent. That he was pleased was easy to read as well. "Do you still have 'em?"

"No." Sadness flitted across his face for a brief moment. "She died when I was fourteen. They were tossed out like most of our possessions. I still think of her when I see one. Happy thoughts."

Doyle nodded in understanding.

Bodie's relief at Doyle's acceptance seemed out or proportion given the brevity of the revelation but it didn't matter, he had trusted Doyle with a past part of his life.

The clock finally ticked over to midnight. They were waiting for Anson to climb the stairs when Doyle noted movement on the street in front of the very flat they were watching.

Doyle whispered into his R/T, "Anson, where are you?"

"Stairwell," was whispered in return. He added in the same soft tone, "McCabe's parking the car."

"Tell McCabe to hang back. Movement in the suspect's flat."

Bodie moved in behind Doyle, picked up the glasses, and watched silently.

One man set foot inside and the lights went on. He placed chairs around a table. Outside, four men converged on the flat's entrance, going out of their way not to acknowledge one another.

Doyle called in to headquarters as Bodie described each man as he entered the Minister's flat. The first had been the minister himself. With this information, they were ordered to remain at their posts. Bodie and Doyle in the flat, Anson at the entrance, McCabe stuck with observing from his car. Two more men arrived before they all sat down at the table.

Doyle took pictures. Bodie turned on the audio recorder. It was soon apparent that neither infidelity nor treason was the Minister's predicament. Gambling was the vice of choice and highs stakes betting by the amount of money on the table already.

The game had been running about an hour when Cowley showed up with additional manpower. He wanted all the players followed. By dawn, hundreds of thousands of pounds had been won and lost. The group watching fully expected a falling out of sorts but nothing like that happened. All the men stood and left the same as they had entered, without looking or speaking to each other. Cowley ordered each man followed. He planned to deal with the minister personally. 

Cowley released Bodie and Doyle conceding that their shift had ended six hours ago. He wanted fresh manpower in the field.

"Glad that operation is over," Doyle remarked to Bodie as they moved pass their boss. Both were quite surprised by Cowley's response. 

"Operation is hardly over, Doyle. This is just one assignation. I need to know if there are more. Same again tonight." Cowley turned back to Anson who was now manning the R/T.

Doyle rolled his eyes and followed Bodie into chilly morning air. "Should probably warn me mum that we probably won't make it. Bloody Cowley." Doyle fell silent in an exhausted way.

Bodie, on the other hand, was shocked wide-awake. He was positive that Doyle had said 'we' when speaking about attending his mum's for Christmas dinner. We? Couldn't possibly mean him, he was probably bringing a bird. The disappointment at that was another surprise.

That, in itself, puzzled him. Disappointed that he wasn't going to Doyle's mum's when he had never given it a thought before Doyle's grousing, now . . . well now he actually wanted to go. What the hell was wrong with him?

He pulled up in front of Doyle's flat and said perfunctorily, "Pick you up at eleven thirty."

Doyle surprised him yet again. "How about an hour earlier? We can get some grub." 

Bodie said, "Sure," on automatic, stunned that he could be feeling even more surprise. Did Doyle just ask him out? Could Doyle fancy him? Was that what was behind all the confidences? Doyle wanted more?

Bodie set the alarm on his flat and wandered about the kitchen. He put the kettle on, more for something to do than because he was thirsty.

Doyle fancied more. The childhood stories, Christmas dinner at his mum's . . . all were paramount to asking the question.

Did he want to be asked . . . that was the question

 

Bodie hated this. Self-examination was for trick cyclists or at least Doyle, not him. But this time it seemed unavoidable . . . damn Doyle, he had shared that story, that stupid story. Wait. It wasn't stupid. It had been important and, bloody hell, he had blurted out one in return.

He did want to meet Doyle's mum and Doyle had always been easy on the eyes. Well, except for his ratty days.

Those thoughts sustained him through his ablutions as he readied for bed. He fell asleep sifting through his own childhood memories. 

\--------------------

 

Bodie spent their shift watching Doyle with very different eyes.

Every movement seemed to convey that he was a sexual being. Uncrossing and re-crossing his legs with that slow stretch in between almost seemed like an invitation. It was an invitation that he had to keep himself from acting upon.

Bodie realised by mid afternoon that he was half hard with all the Doyle watching. That answered the question he hadn't really asked himself. Could he respond?

He knew with certainty by shift end that Doyle got to him that way. He could hardly keep his eyes off his partner. Oh, he watched the flat as Cowley commanded, though his internal eyes were still seeing Doyle.

When Anson arrived, Bodie fairly pushed his partner out the door. He wanted to be back at the flat before he tried anything on. He wasn't sure when he'd made that decision, but if Doyle fancied him, then he could do nothing less.

Bodie watched as Doyle locked the door and removed his scarf and jacket before taking off his own. 

Doyle turned on the fairy lights, kicked off his shoes on the way to the kitchen. Over his shoulder he asked, "Hungry?"

Bodie nodded. He moved toward his partner, eyes intent on his face. Doyle rested back against the counter, watching with seemingly equal intent.

Bodie looked into Doyle's eyes and saw what he saw every day – his partner.

He cupped the fascinating face and leaned in. Lips met. He didn't take. Ray didn't give. They met. Together in this as in everything.

Bodie gently explored lips and teeth and tongue with his own lips and teeth and tongue. It was everything and nothing like he imagined. They separated for breath. Bodie knew he was looking all soft at his partner this close up. Ray Doyle just smiled and lifted his face for more. Bodie obliged at once.

That gesture from his partner reverberated clearly in Bodie's mind. They were, as always, on the same wavelength. The gentle exploration exploded into great passion and both were clearly impatient to touch bare skin. Shirts were unbuttoned, pullovers half pulled off, flies undone, trousers and pants hanging about knees. 

Lips touched as hands caressed. It didn't take long for knowing hands to react to firming flesh. Knowing what to do was instinctual, but it didn't stop Bodie from revelling in the exquisite sensation. The large callused hand worked him higher that all the birds before him. His Doyle was touching more than turgid flesh and Bodie exploded all over that hand and their touching, bare skin. Doyle was not long behind him and they rested into one another, still leaning against the kitchen counter.

The tea kettle whistled and Bodie smiled. "I'm famished."

Morning came early as they'd spent most the night in the continuing exploration of new territories. Habit and duty made them respond to the alarm and after their shower and shave, tea and toast, they were headed to the boring obbo.

"I don't know, what's Cowley's problem? Tomorrow is Christmas eve, even the minister will be home with family. Who's he expecting?" Doyle's tone was no different from the first day of the op.

"A bit of the triple think, but this time I think he's struck out."

"Well, I'm going for the food run now. It's supposed to be even colder than last night tonight."

Bodie waved him off as he took his place behind the scope. Normal, it was all normal. The partnership off the job didn't affect the partnership on the job. Bodie couldn't help smiling to himself.

Doyle returned just as the R/T bleeped.

"Alpha One to 3.7, 4.5."

Bodie picked it up. "3.7."

"Minister's confessed all. Favours paid off as gambling wins. Pack it in. You're both off through Boxing Day. Full report before you're off duty. Alpha One out."

"Yahoo! Me mum's for Christmas dinner."

Bodie nodded, warm inside. "Let's pack this in before he changes his mind."

Doyle nodded in return. "You pack, I'll write the report."

An hour later, car packed up, they made a final sweep of the flat. At the door, Doyle stopped Bodie with his arm before he opened it. Out from the deep reaches of his overcoat pocket he produced a snow globe.

Bodie sucked in his breath. A glittering tree surrounded by dancing snow – his childhood glee merged with the present day. He smiled. His smile was just as bright as the look that radiated from Doyle's eyes. Then, as if to set the scene, snow fell. The white, glistening flakes soon surrounded them.

Bodie lifted his face upward and it didn't feel cold at all.

 

fin

 

[](http://s267.photobucket.com/user/KrisserCI5/media/ladswithsnowglobe.gif.html)

**Author's Note:**

> authors note:
> 
> Picture created by metabolick and animated courtesy of biani. Many thanks to you both.
> 
> My prompt was a Matchbox car.
> 
> Matchbox series – a Lesney product – 1953-present including cars such as an MG Midget TD, a Vauxhall Cresta, a Ford Zodiac.


End file.
